Green-Eyed Monster and Peppermints
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: Rick's noticed that the men of Alexandria can't seem to keep their eyes off of Michonne and he doesn't like it one bit. When Daryl points out that he has no room to complain, will Rick stop his pouting and pull it together, or keep pining from afar?


**A/N: Special thanks to Moyvonne who sent me a prompt idea for this one-shot. This one takes place in the Canon Universe, a little retelling of the kiss on the couch. I hope you all enjoy!**

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The first-time Rick Grimes caught Daryl Dixon staring at Michonne, he saw red. It took a moment to even process what he was looking at. They were all outside, unloading supplies from a run. It was a warm day, the kind that put him in mind of summer afternoons before the turn. Even Alexandria looked welcoming under that fading afternoon night. The whole town was gathered around eagerly taking inventory of the day's finds. Michonne was helping, as usual, her mind completely on the task at hand. Sasha handed her a box, sitting it at her feet. In one smooth motion, Michonne bent over, lifting the crate into her shapely arms. From behind her, Daryl was gawking. His blue eyes were narrowed as he watched her, his movement completely suspended. Rick paused what he was doing, sure for a moment that his friend was simply taking a break, or perhaps caught up in thought. After a few moments, the reality of the situation became clear. Daryl was unabashedly ogling Michonne's ass. Acting on instinct, Rick walked forward.

"Everything all right there?" he asked lowly, trying to sound conversational.

"It's all good," his friend threw him a little wink, then carried on with his business as though nothing was amiss. For Rick, the world felt like it had fallen flat on its face.

He stayed up that night after the house had gone quiet, pondering his reaction. It wasn't that it surprised him that Michonne attracted male attention. Hell, he'd done more than his fair share of watching her over the last few months, especially when she left the room. It had been just the pair of them and Carl for weeks on end not all that long ago. As the only adult in her company, Rick had the privilege of becoming her confidant. It was easy to forget that he wasn't the only one that knew her and craved her attention. In fact, if he thought about it, seemed like more than just Daryl was clambering for her affection. Spencer was dogging her steps every chance he got and even Morgan tossed her a look or two.

"You ok?" Michonne's voice behind him nearly gave him a heart attack. Her approach had been silent as ever, her question in the same measured tone she always used. He glanced up at her over the back of the couch. Her dreads were pulled back from her face, knotted together in a messy bun. She was wearing the sweat pants he had found for her a few runs ago, and a tight tank top that didn't leave much to the imagination. She looked messy and absolutely appealing.

"Just thinking," he rubbed his forehead, willing himself to formulate an intelligible answer. She'd caught him completely off guard.

"Want to talk about it?" her question, selfless as ever, disarmed him even more.

"It's nothing serious," he stood up, smiling reassuringly at her. She looked skeptical and he couldn't blame her. He hadn't exactly done right by her from the moment that they had arrived at the gates of the Alexandria Safe Zone.

"All right," she acquiesced reluctantly, her face still betraying her uncertainty. "Is it something with Jessie?" she tried again, her eyebrows curving upwards.

"Why would it be about Jessie?" he asked, confused.

"Seems like that's all it's been about lately," she delivered this statement calmly. Rick could think of no response. A deep sense of shame was filling him up. He swallowed hard. Michonne watched him for a moment, then shook her head. "Don't stay up too late," she cautioned. "We have patrol tomorrow."

She was back up the stairs before Rick could recover, his footsteps barely audibly as she made her retreat to her bedroom.

Jessie Anderson. The cherubic face of their deceased blonde neighbor danced in Rick's subconscious as he laid in bed, sleep evading him. What was it about Jessie Anderson that had consumed him so much? Six weeks after her death, it was hard to pinpoint the source. He had killed for this woman, taken a beating in the street. He recalled intimately the feeling of Michonne's fist connecting with the back of his head. Of all the people in their group, it had been her who literally knocked some sense into him. Still, it had not stopped him from trying to protect the Anderson family. His attraction to the ill-fated blonde had gotten her family killed. It had costs Carl his eye. It may have cost him his relationship with the woman he had just realized was his best friend.

He pondered over this, turning the thoughts over in his head, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. From the next room over, he could hear Michonne's quiet breathing. He fixated on the sound like a beacon, willing his mind to calm down. It was no use. The answer to his Jessie question came to him in the quiet hours of the early morning, when the sky was beginning to lighten. Jessie was like Lori. He hadn't let himself think of his wife in a while, not since the prison went all up in flames. Both Lori and Jessie were the type of good woman that a southern boy like him ought to have wanted. They were homemakers, delicate, fragile. They required looking after.

Michonne was none of those things. She was strong, confident, intelligent. She played an equal part in the decision making, the only person who could truly get through to him in his more stubborn moments. She was a hell of a partner, a fierce adversary and even fiercer ally. She was beautiful inside and out. It was clear now that Rick was not the only man who had noticed all of this.

Her laughter caught his attention the following day. Tired from a restless night, he glanced across the street. Michonne was dressed in her uniform, her hands in her pockets, giggling at something Spencer was saying to her. The tall young man was smiling as well, looking down at her in a self-assured way. Rick remembered the first time he had heard Michonne laugh. Even through those cold, hard nights on the road, she'd found reasons to smile. It startled him to see her smiling for someone else.

"What are you doing tonight?" the question reached his ears from across the street.

"I was just going to stay home with the family," Michonne shrugged.

The family. His family. The family he had come to think of as theirs. Michonne was a crucial part of that, an irreplaceable cog in the machinery that not only allowed he and his children to live, but to enjoy the living. Judith cried for her when she was away for too long, and even Carl had slipped up and called her "mom" on more than one occasion.

"You should come over," Spencer leaned forward to Michonne, his grin widening. "We've still got some wine. It'd be nice to get to know each other. You know, merge the two groups."

Rick froze, listening carefully for Michonne's response. He was struck by the sudden realization of how good looking Spencer was. He was taller than Rick, younger than Rick, and apparently, quicker on the uptake. Michonne was watching him, pursing her lips in that way she did when she was thinking hard about something.

"Sure," she said at last. Rick felt his heart drop as Spencer's smile widened.

"It's a date then," he said.

"It's dinner," Michonne corrected. Still, she was smiling as she turned around, making her way back to Rick.

"What were you two gabbing about?" Rick tried to keep his voice light as they continued patrol.

Michonne cut her eyes at Rick, the dark irises narrowing. "You're pretty nosy today."

"Am I?" they turned a corner, effectively removing Spencer from their line of sight. Rick almost breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know we kept secrets from each other."

Michonne came to a full stop, her eyes widening. "Really, Rick?" the question was simple, the answer infinitely more complicated.

"Ok," he admitted. "I've been pretty shitty at that the last couple months." Michonne snorted in lieu of an answer. "I've been really shitty," he amended. Planning a takeover, stealing guns, keeping secrets—he'd been an asshole. Michonne cocked one arched brow, but refrained from saying anything. Rick exhaled. "I'm sorry," it took a lot to meet her unflinching glance. "I'm sorry for putting you through all that."

Michonne paused, her steps halting. Her wide brown eyes continued their assessment of him. "Spencer invited me to dinner," she said, restarting her steady gait.

"And you said yes?" Rick wished that he didn't sound like a petulant child.

"I did," Michonne did not break stride.

"Why?" he had no right to ask, but he did it anyway.

She laughed then, a wry chuckle. "Deanna asked me what I wanted," Michonne's gaze fell to the sidewalk. "Before she died. I feel like I owe it to her to find out."

"And what you want is Spencer?" Rick's face screwed up in confusion.

Michonne shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Might be. Maybe it turns out that I want Daryl. Or Morgan." She shrugged. "Or nobody."

Rick paused, watching her walk a few steps in front of him. It did not escape his attention that his name was nowhere on that list.

"Why was it that you wanted Jessie?" she asked him, her eyes finding his face again. She stayed a few steps in front of him, her brow furrowed as the sunlight danced in front her.

"I don't remember now," looking at Michonne, her hair silhouetted by the afternoon light, he couldn't fathom why Jessie had ever turned his head.

Michonne nodded, accepting his non-answer. "We should check the perimeter," she told him, effectively ending their conversation.

Rick kept silent for the rest of their shift and most of the evening afterwards. Glenn and Maggie were over for dinner, chatting amicably with Carl, Carol, and Morgan at the kitchen table. Daryl was off somewhere on the porch, chatting with Abe and Sasha. Rick sat on the hard wood chair, clutching Judith in his lap and listening to Michonne showering upstairs.

"You ok, man?" it was Glenn's voice that ended his musings.

"Just tired," Rick shook his head.

"Maybe you should go lay down. You're burning the candle at both ends," Carol suggested. "We can watch Judith."

"I think I'll do that," he handed his daughter over thankfully. His booted feet thumped up the steps, emerging on the top floor just in time to see Michonne rush out of the bathroom, wrapped in her robe.

"Do you have any toothpaste?" she asked.

Rick shook his head. "No. On account of someone stealing it every day for two weeks," he feebly joked. Michonne rolled her eyes.

"I'll find something," she mused, waving at him distractedly before heading into her bedroom to change and closing the door. Rick immediately went into his room, fell on the bed and pretended he wasn't wondering how her night was unfolding.

Another restless night of sleep found him up in the early hours of the morning. The house was already abuzz. Carl was bouncing a tennis ball off the walls and Judith was cooing at him from her crib. Michonne was nowhere to be found.

"What crawled up your ass?" Daryl asked him an hour later, as they headed out on the road for a run.

"Nothing," Rick was aware that he was pouting. He didn't care.

"So, Michonne having dinner with Spencer last night ain't bothering you at all?' Daryl cut right to the chase.

Rick sucked his teeth, determined to keep quiet, eyes on the road.

"You didn't think you were the only guy who noticed her, did you?" Daryl laughed outright.

"Caught you staring," Rick accused.

Daryl shrugged. "The whole damn town has seen you watching her ass. Like I said, you ain't the only one who noticed." He glanced over at Rick while he drove. "Everyone held off for a while. We kinda figured you two were a thing, 'specially when you shacked up together."

"You live there too," Rick reminded him.

Daryl laughed. "Sure, but you ain't always bringing me pretty things you find out on runs. You damn sure don't gawk at me neither." Rick kept silent. Daryl shook his head. "I'm just sayin'. You don't got a right to be mad at her."

"I know," Rick admitted. He wasn't angry at Michonne. He was angry at himself. There wasn't much time to focus on his multitude of regrets as the day unfolded. He and Daryl perused several stores in the area, seizing anything useful that wasn't nailed down. A dusty old sorghum shed and an abandoned gas station yielded impressive results. Rick inspected the candy aisle, disappointedly noticing that most of the sweet treats had been overrun by vermin. Michonne had a sweet tooth. Perhaps it was for this reason that she was constantly sneaking around the house, brushing her teeth. She had exhausted their supply of toothpaste. His heart skipped a beat a few buildings later when they located a whole box of toothpaste in her favorite flavor. He loaded it onto the truck with glee, ignoring Daryl's pointed smirk. The two of them went about the task of gathering a few crates of supplies, some junk food and a total stranger. The whole thing culminated in their truck ending up in a lake and the stranger ending up unconscious and restrained in a salvaged car.

Michonne's toothpaste was now out of reach and Rick had a headache that felt likely to split him in two. He was sore and he had another person to contend with. Worst of all, he had nothing for Michonne. It seemed important, especially today, not to come home to her emptyhanded. He rifled through the glove compartment of their new car. A small, wrinkled roll of mints was wedged into the bottom. He fished it out. It would have to be enough.

"You wouldn't have left him," Rick glanced into the rearview mirror where Daryl was seated next to their new acquisition.

"I would have. Right up a tree." Daryl glanced at.

"You wouldn't have. I know you." It had been a long time since Rick distrusted his backwoods companion. It occurred to him how lucky he was to have him, and Glenn, and Michonne. "You all tried to tell me," Rick began, fumbling for a way to apologize. "You, Michonne, Glenn, you saw what this place was." Daryl caught his eye in the mirror, a familiar, hopeful gleam there. It was the same look he had given Rick months back when Rick had decided against giving Michonne to the Governor. "So shut up," Rick continued, uncomfortable under Daryl's stare, "'Cause I'm finally listening."

Daryl nodded almost imperceptibly. Rick felt himself calm down. Whatever happened, he and Daryl were still brothers.

He left Daryl with their long-haired discovery and retired home, eager to see her. The house was quiet when he arrived. Carl was already in bed and by the sound of it, so was Judith. Disappointed, Rick flopped on the couch in his quiet home, his mind spinning.

"Move," Michonne's command startled him. She was standing above him, clutching Judith's monitor. She was dressed in her normal day wear of skintight pants and a tight tank top. Rick moved over, trying not to seem overly-eager to have contact with her.

"She's practicing in her sleep," she brandished the monitor so that Rick could see his daughter. Judith was wiggling around in the crib, crawling. He chuckled. Michonne watched Judith on the screen, her face betraying her maternal pride. It was easy to think of Judith as Michonne's now. He was glad to see that she felt the same.

"How was your date?" he tried to sound conversational. He was still wondering where she had been for the better part of 24 hours.

Michonne sighed. "It wasn't a date. More of a heart-to-heart." She settled onto the cushions next to him, putting her feet up beside his.

"Want to talk about it?" he would suffer through details of Spencer sniffing after her if it meant earning a modicum of her trust back.

"Not really," she shook her head, not unkindly. "I just want to relax for a minute." She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. Rick traced the contours of her face with his eyes, settling on her full lips. "How was your day?" the question brought him back to reality.

"Daryl and I found a guy," he explained.

"You found a guy?" she asked, incredulous.

"Daryl's watching him right now. We can check it out in the morning." Rick pulled his boots off. They were less than a foot away from one another now. They often shared close proximity, but never before had his senses been this heightened, this aware of her every move.

"Spencer and I found Deanna," Michonne confessed quietly. Rick looked at her, shocked. "Or what used to be Deanna. He's been going out every day, looking for her." She worried her lower lip between her teeth and released it with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," it was a woefully inadequate statement. Michonne had liked Spencer's mother almost as much as Rick had rebelled against her.

Michonne swallowed hard. "It was a long day," she tilted her head to look at him, a sadness in her expression.

"I brought you something," his mind fell to that little pack of mints in his pocket. He fished them out, holding them up for her inspection, hoping against reason that it would cheer her up.

"Mints?" she questioned, reaching for the roll.

"I had a whole crate of toothpaste for you," he clarified. "But thanks to the new guy, they're at the bottom of a lake."

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open. "You had a _day_ ," she exclaimed.

He laughed at her tone. It had been so long since they had last talked like this. "Have your mints," he patted the foil package in her hand, his fingers brushing the warm skin. He prolonged the contact, tracing the tips of her fingers with his own. Michonne did not pull away. His palm settled over hers, wrapping his calloused digits between her slender ones, the mints sandwiched between them.

Rick could hear his own heart thumping in his ears. He dared to look over at Michonne. Her eyes were trained on his, wide and expectant and slightly fearful. Rick inhaled, moving slowly, acting on instinct. His face drew closer to hers. She did not pull back. The first contact of his lips on hers was like an electric shock. Michonne let out a tiny gasp and leaned into him. Rick seized the opportunity. She met him halfway, her mouth parting beneath his own. He pushed hard against her, deepening the kiss, groaning into her mouth.

She felt like a dream, warm and solid beneath his hands. Her sinewy arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her beneath him. His gun snagged between them, necessitating that he disengage from her.

"Wait," he pled with her to stay still, unhooking the holster as quickly as he safely could and setting it on the coffee table in front of them. It only took a few seconds, but the sudden lack of physical contact almost panicked him. It was time in which Michonne could change her mind, time in which she could remember how much he had changed when they first came to Alexandria.

Instead, she giggled. The sound set a shockwave of pleasure through him. He came to her again, leaning her backwards against the cushions. She parted her legs, allowing him to settle between them. He braced himself above her, hardly believing his luck. His lips quirked into what he was sure was a shit-eating-grin before they found hers again.

"I've wanted this for so long," he panted this confession into her ear.

"Then why?" she pulled back to look at him. Rick knew what she was asking.

"I was scared. Scared to ruin what was right in front of us," he stared down into her wide brown eyes. Jessie had been easy, the kind of person he knew was incapable of hurting him. "I'm sorry," he dropped another kiss on Michonne's lips. "I'm so sorry." He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in the smell of her skin, like pine from the forest beyond the wall. She looked back at him for a long moment. He froze.

"We should go upstairs," she suggested. For a moment, Rick felt the sting of disappoint. Michonne must have read it on his face because she sat up slightly, folding herself back into him. "Someone might see us down here," she continued.

Rick took her point at last. "Is my room ok?" he asked, scrambling to gather her katana, his gun and their baby monitor.

"That's fine," she smiled, her teeth glowing brilliantly despite their toothpaste shortage.

It took considerable self-control to go quietly up the stairs, and more so to contain himself when she allowed him to see all of her.

"No wonder everyone stares at you," Rick let out a breath reverently. To blink now would be a huge disservice. Every solitary inch of her was perfect, the skin glowing like polished metal in the low light of his bedroom.

"Who stares at me?" Michonne's face crinkled in confusion, "besides you, obviously." Her mischievous smile brought a laugh out of him. Her fingers worked nimbly at the buttons of his blue denim shirt, making short work of removing it.

"No one I need to worry about," he set about the task of running his lips over every part of her within reach. "Right?" he froze just above her collarbone, his hands tugging at her waist.

Michonne sighed, pushing him backwards on the bed. "As long as you keep your eyes on me from now on, you don't need to worry about anyone else." She climbed on top of him.

"You don't need to worry about that," he assured her, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. "I'm done being an idiot."

Her laugh sent a jolt of joy through him. "Took you long enough." She teased.

Rick silenced her with a series of wet kisses that transformed her words into low moans. His previous exhaustion evaporated as they explored one another in the dark of his bedroom. It was nearly morning by the time they were spent. Michonne's leg was tangled around his, her face pressed into the pillows. He reached for her, laying one hand protectively over her backside. She smirked at him.

"We should move your things in tomorrow," he whispered to her.

Michonne just smiled. Rick exhaled contently, pressing his head back into his mattress, Michonne's hand on his chest. For the first time since he'd arrived at the Alexandria Safe Zone, he felt at home.


End file.
